


In The Breaking Light

by Solanaceae



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: The Darkening falls, and Indis yearns.





	In The Breaking Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy!

The longing had long been an ache centered right above Indis’ collarbone, lodged in her throat like a particularly stubborn fish bone. It had kindled under golden light, when she had seen the flash of red hair gilded by Laurelin’s glow, when she had accidentally come upon her husband’s son and his wife arguing heatedly in the garden.

Indis had drawn back into the shadows, pressing close to the rose bushes, ignoring the prick of thorns against her skin. From where she stood, she could not make out specific words, only the general tone of anger and frustration. The pair’s backs were to her, Nerdanel with her arms crossed and Fëanor gesturing widely.

Before long, Fëanor had stormed off, leaving Nerdanel standing beneath the tree. Indis expected her to follow her husband, or go off in another direction, but instead Nerdanel had sighed, the rise and fall of her shoulders evident even from a distance, then sat down in the shade of a nearby tree.

It was then, catching sight of the fire of Nerdanel’s hair, the way the golden light played across her strong features, the heat fading from her eyes - it was then that Indis had felt a strange stir of warmth in her chest.

Hurriedly turning away, she fled the garden before Nerdanel could catch sight of her.

She had buried those feelings, ashamed. To desire another beyond her husband was one thing - but to harbor such emotions towards the wife of Finwë’s first son, when Fëanor held nothing but hatred for her? It was beyond unthinkable. 

So the years stretched on, and she nearly forgot about stumbling upon them in the garden. It was easy enough to avoid Nerdanel, as there was little love shared between Fëanor and Indis, and Finwë’s eldest son seemed to go out of his way to avoid fraternizing with her and her children. 

Then came the darkness, falling swiftly over Valinor, and the battle at Alqalondë, and the march of the soon-exiled. 

Indis took the throne of Finwë following his death and the flight of any who might have contested it. Since Finwë’s renouncement of his kingship, the Noldor had been mostly leaderless - there was little need for a single figurehead when the former king’s council managed day-to-day activities perfectly well. 

But if there had ever been a time for unity and a single leader, this was it. 

***

“--and the missives from Olwë indicate that he is in need of more help rebuilding - should we send additional workers to the docks?”

Indis bowed her head in thought. The mostly empty court still felt too strange for her to hold audiences in the throne room (even beside the fact that sitting on Finwë’s throne felt somehow  _ wrong, _ in a way that set her teeth on edge and made it hard to stay still). She had compromised with the remainder of the court - she would ascend the throne for any proclamations that required her to make them, and all other meetings would be held in a room off to the side, which with the addition of a wide wooden desk and some bookshelves made quite a comfortable study. It was here that she now sat, with a nervous looking young woman - hardly more than a girl, really - holding a scroll stamped with Olwë’s seal. 

“We can spare a few,” she said at last. “Remind him that the harvest approaches, however, and Tirion will need most of its people back here to bring it in.”

_ What little of it has survived this darkness, _ she did not add. The growing lack of food was just one more item on her list of things to worry about. 

The girl nodded and withdrew. Indis leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples with her fingers. She had hardly been uninvolved in Finwë’s ruling, but ruling on her own was another thing entirely. There seemed to be a thousand little things to keep track of, a thousand people to please.

A knock on the door made her look up. To her surprise, Nerdanel poked her head around the doorway, what looked like a sheaf of parchment clutched in one hand. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Indis’ mouth said before her brain had quite caught up. 

Nerdanel entered the room fully, running a hand through her hair. As she approached, Indis could see that she looked as exhausted as Indis felt.

“I have a solution to our light problem,” Nerdanel said without preamble. “At least, something that could work.” She set the parchment down on the desk, and Indis caught sight of what looked like a sketch of a globe on a pole.

“What’s this?”

“Lamps.” Nerdanel looked proud. “I was thinking, what did they do for light before the Trees? Well, there were Illuin and Ormal, of course. Why should we not have our own lamps - smaller, of course, and not built to light the whole world, but perhaps enough to let our crops grow.”

By the time she finished talking, Nerdanel was practically glowing with excitement, eyes bright. Indis found it suddenly hard to breathe, and managed to nod.

“It seems suitable.” In her effort to keep her voice steady, the words came out colder than she had intended. “Bring complete plans and I will give you people to help build them.”

Nerdanel nodded, rolling up the parchment. “I will return soon.” The door closed behind her, and Indis buried her face in her hands, cheeks flaring with heat.

_ Fool. _

The desire that surged in her heart had surprised her, that was all. A memory of light that unbalanced her for a second. She had not meant to speak so sharpy, but what else could she have done?

***

_ Is this right? _

Indis nodded her way through another meeting with the remnants of the council, letting them speak over her. Few noticed how preoccupied the queen was - and none could have possibly divined why.

_ Finwë hardly even cold in his grave, and already I yearn for another--  _

Nerdanel was not  _ beautiful _ by any classical definition, but there was something about the firm set of her mouth, the strong angle of her jaw that captivated Indis. Surely she could not be the only one who saw it.

_ Yet Finwë would understand, if anyone could, what it means to love and lose and love again. _

Still, she did her best to keep Nerdanel out of sight and mind. It would not do for the queen to be distracted during such a crucial time.  

***

Nerdanel returned a few days later, plans for lamps drawn up, and Indis watched her explain them, only half understanding the mechanism. It did not help that the light from the wall sconces kept reflecting brightly off Nerdanel’s hair - hardly the pure light of Laurelin, now lost, but enough to bring back the scent of roses, the sight of Nerdanel glowing in treelight. 

_ Stop acting like a lovesick maiden, _ she told herself firmly.  _ What you desire will never come to pass. _

(It had been so long since she had felt another touch her for more than a moment. So long since someone had shared warmth and love with her. The throne was a cold and lonely place, and her bed was empty at night.

Was it any wonder she yearned for contact?)

Nerdanel cleared her throat, and Indis realized that she had finished her explanation. 

“Yes,” Indis said, not quite sure what the past few minutes had held. “It seems like a good plan.”

Nerdanel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. Indis looked down. Nerdanel’s eyes were a clear green, like silver light through leaves. It felt like falling to look into them. 

“Is there aught you need, Indis?”

Indis kept her eyes on her folded hands, knowing that if she met Nerdanel’s gaze, she would break. She felt like a vibrating glass, trembling between wholeness and shattering. “Nay. You may go.”

Nerdanel did not move. Indis raised an eyebrow.

“Unless there is something  _ you _ need?”

“May I speak plainly, Indis?”

“Always.”

Nerdanel stood, pushing her chair back, and leaned over Indis’ desk. “You are troubled by something. And before you protest, I am hardly the only to have seen it.” She seemed to hesitate, then reached to enfold Indis’ hands in her own. The warmth of her, the catch of rough callouses against delicate skin, nearly took Indis’ breath away.

_ By Manwë’s eye, this will be the death of me yet. _

“Why won’t you look at me, Indis?”

With great effort, Indis dragged her gaze up from Nerdanel’s hands to her face. “I do not know of what you speak.”

“It is not my imagination, then, that you seek to avoid me. What have I done to displease you?”

“Nothing,” Indis answered hastily. “It - it is no fault of yours.” 

“No fault of mine. So there is something.” Nerdanel’s grip tightened. “You can tell me, you know. You are not the only one who feels the sting of loneliness in the dark.”

At those words, Indis felt the prick of tears in her eyes. She looked away. How could Nerdanel have known? 

“It does not matter,” she bit out, struggling to keep her voice even. 

“It does.” And Nerdanel’s hand was on her cheek, tilting her head up, and Indis felt the heat of tears spilling over her cheeks. She was not sure who leaned in first, but their lips met, Indis’ slick with tears.

When they pulled apart, Nerdanel was smiling.

“You could have told me, you know.”

Indis blushed. “I did not think my feelings would be reciprocated.”

Instead of answering, Nerdanel kissed her again, cradling Indis’ head in her hands.

***

Nerdanel came to Indis’ room, and they lay in a tangle of limbs beneath the blankets. There was no giving of pleasure to one another, but simply lying beside Nerdanel and feeling her warmth was enough for Indis. She had not realized how starved for touch she was until now. 

It became a nightly occurrence for one or the other to find their way into the same bed. Indis wondered if Nerdanel felt the same thing as her when they were apart - the thorny vines of loneliness closing around her throat, choking off breath. 

About a week later, their bed was graced by the light from one of Nerdanel’s lamps spilling through the window, painting the sheets a strangely cold yellow. It was a far cry from the light of the Trees, but the sight of any kind of illumination was a welcome one. 

“Do you - miss the way it was before?” Indis asked. The words dropped heavy from her lips. Nerdanel’s hand, which had been running up and down Indis’ side, fell still.

After a long moment, she nodded. “I do not think there is anyone in Valinor who does not wish to return to the light.”

_ If nothing else, I am glad that we have this - this fragile beginning of something. _

She could not say such things out loud - it would seem far too selfish, to minimize the Darkening thus - but there was little harm in holding to this one glint of light in the darkness. 

And perhaps they could grow together into something more. 


End file.
